The Adventures of Death
by Charlieharold
Summary: Death was the sort of being that didn't like his authority to be challenged. He had a reputation to upkeep and when two souls decided to reincarnate for the second time under his watch ... he decided it was time to investigate.
1. Prologue

THe Adventures of Death

Inspired by Terry Pratchett's Discworld novel, _Mort_. Naruto (of course) belongs to Kishimoto.

Prologue

Death sighed, his orbits seeming to gaze over the particularly disturbing report in front of him. Or at least, that's what the assistant assumed they were looking at. It was sort of hard to tell when the man didn't have eyeballs. Or at least, he assumed that Death was a man? Perhaps sentient being was a better label. Regardless, the assistant felt the deep sigh resonate through his very bones, making him cower under the pressure and wilting the potted daisy on the desk. It was the sort of sigh that reminded the assistant that this was in fact _Death_ , and that it was his report that was making the omnipotent being unhappy.

His knees began to shake slightly and silently he prayed that the cloaked skeleton didn't feel like exiling to any sort of purgatory today or dishing out some awful punishment. Only the other day, there had been rumors that the lady on level 17 with the frizzy auburn hair, who usually shouted everyone coffee on Thursday's, had handed in a report on the weekly Reapers' soul collection fund three hours late. Apparently her horrifying screams could be heard for hours, and the worst part; no one had seen her since.

The assistant gulped loudly and concentrated on staring at the toes of his polished leather oxfords.

In actuality, Death was feeling rather put out.

His gleaming phalanges ran over the pages of the latest human soul statistics of universe #27182818285. Something fishy was going down. The numbers didn't seem to add up. If Death had had eyebrows, they would have been tightly scrunched in wary apprehension. As it was, he settled for resonating a particularly dark aura.

Searching for the origin of his unease, he flicked the page over, and then blanched; well at least he knew what the problem was _now_. Letting out another frustrated sigh – and noticing the Daisy in the pot on his desk turn to ash and _dammit_ that had been a gift - death rested his elbow joint on the polished mahogany desk, glancing up at the new assistant.

" **THANK YOU FOR BRINGING THIS TO MY ATTENTION."**

Then he paused before,

" **YOU MAY LEAVE NOW."**

He didn't think it was possible, but the man had gone as pale as himself. The assistant stammered out something unintelligible and bowed before nearly sprinting out of his office with wobbling legs.

Death stared for a moment, not comprehending the assistants suddenly need to flee, then glanced back at the report. He was going to have to do damage control.

Two souls of the universe #27182818285 had reincarnated themselves. Again. The first time, death had been mildly perturbed; and a bit cheated if he was honest. He would not be so complacent a second time. There was a certain entitled prestige that came with his job. He was Death, the first Grim Reaper and master psychopomp. That there were souls in existence that dared to defy him… the very thought brewed an uncomfortable heaviness in his chest cavity that he very carefully did not label petty indignance. Clenching his fists, Death stood, his finely tailored dark hooded cloak billowing over his leering form. An impressively tall scythe materialized in his gleamingly white right hand.

" **BERYL, PLEASE WATER MY DAISY WHILE I AM GONE."**

The woman in question, a plump middle-aged woman who had no doubt been a soccer mum in her past life, looked panic stricken as she noticed the small pile of black ashes that she was supposed to keep alive. But Death didn't particularly care. He had some souls to investigate, and possibly, reapers to reprimand. A mass of dark shadowy tendrils suddenly exploded from Death's scythe, encompassing his eight-foot frame completely, before being sucked inwards, and leaving the office with a flash of bright white light.


	2. Chapter 1

The Adventures of Death

Inspired by Terry Pratchett's Discworld novel, _Mort_. Naruto (of course) belongs to Kishimoto.

Chapter 1

Travel via Death Scythe teleportation was a fairly flashy technique. It was the sort of transportation that had required decades of perfection and refinement to master. Its purpose was to awe-inspire his subordinates and make them quake in their boots, to remind them that he was Death, a being whose existence transcended life itself. When Death arrived, the local wildlife instantly became as silent as the grave, and what animals weren't frozen in fear, fled the site filled with terror. The flora around him wilted dramatically and the once luscious grass beneath his feet curled and faded to an unsightly brown as its life was smothered by Death's presence.

So it was a bit of a let down when, upon his truly malevolent show, appearing out of a whirling tear in the fabric of reality, the reaper in front of him gave a carefree wave of her hand,

"Yo Death, how's it hanging?"

The blonde girl, who, by mortal standards looked about fourteen years of age, was lounging on a fallen tree trunk in the abandoned forest clearing and had a cheeky glint in her eyes. She wore the standard reaper uniform; a black billowy cloak not dissimilar from his own, as was regulation for all his field-working minions. Then Death noticed the pair of glaring red converse that she clearly didn't try to hide, as she swung her legs in a carefree manner. Those … were not strictly regulation. But Death never seemed to be able to get this particular reaper to follow the rules. Or respect his authority.

" **YOU HAVE LET THEM REINCARNATE … AGAIN."**

Death may or may not have let a slight whine into his voice. The reaper – Corentine was her name he remembered now – grinned mischievously and let her hand drop.

"Ah. Well. I just couldn't help it you see." Her pitch dropped at the end and her demeanor became more serious. Death suspected shenanigans.

Whatever this was, he wasn't going to like it. Death very carefully didn't sigh. Or let his shoulders droop like he wanted to. Instead he summoned an aura he usually saved for confronting his white collar subordinates who did irritating things like taking extra break time to gossip, using the photocopying machine inappropriately, and filing his paperwork incorrectly. The effect was instantaneous. The air became thick with dread and dark whirls of thick shadow oozed from beneath his cloak.

The reaper finally seemed to realize that Death was serious. Or at least seriously irritated. And so she leapt to her feet, frantically waving her hands in front of her, as if to calm down her boss and hide her sudden nervousness.

"J-Just wait, I have a reason! A really, really good reason!" Her high-pitched whining resonated in the silent clearing.

Death didn't stop emanating his unpleasant nature, but he didn't dial it down either. Slowly, after a pause, he tilted his head to the side slightly and stared down at his unruly subordinate through his eye sockets.

" **EXPLAIN."**

It turns out that the two souls of world #27182818285 had caught his reapers attention because they still had unfinished business. Death had always been wary of this world, and its ability to bend reality. He prided himself on being the ultimate life taker, and when souls cheated him of this title by attempting to make deals with him, avoiding him and circumventing his reapers, Death got fed up. The problem was, Death was only able to keep records of souls living and souls that he would need to take, in order to keep balance in the universe because he had a deal with Life. Despite Life's stuck up attitude and benevolent bullshit, the two of them worked well together. Where Life gave, Death took. Life and Death micromanaged the universe together and somehow managed not to screw anything up irreparably. So far.

According to Corentine, there were extra, unaccounted for souls slinking about in world #27182818285. It had started with that soul who took the form of a woman and used her grasp of Chakra to … take over the world? Death vaguely remembered being told about her by one of his assistants at one point.

Probably.

Maybe.

He had probably been watching reruns of his favourite sitcom at the time.

Regardless, the new unexpected presence had been noted by Life, and he had run damage control countering her presence with his and taking a few extra souls that year. He also remembered when Life told him that the woman had had sons. _Two_ sons. But again Death was notified about this, and Corentine had taken care of it. Death had let it slide when Corentine had later let the two souls reincarnate again because she had been new at the whole reaper thing and _everybody_ makes mistakes. Even if it irked him.

Apparently now the issue was that the unexpected soul … woman, hadn't had two sons. No, she had later spawned another. A _third_. This new third soul hadn't been noticed by Life.

Death didn't like knowing that there were souls that could go unnoticed by Life. It was a little unsettling to know that the plans of a being that held the entire universe together could easily be thwarted by a measly soul.

Corentine had informed him that the issue would take care of itself, because it was prophesized by the prophetic division on the fourth floor, that the two reincarnated souls were destined to destroy the black, third son anyway and save their world from the terror of war. Personally, Death felt that winging the possible existence of the universe on some prophecy made up by the prophetic division on the fourth floor was a terrible idea.

The prophetic division's job was to direct the flow of the lives of and behaviours of souls by releasing their predictions to their respective worlds. They bestowed visions on certain individuals in hoping that they would make reapers' jobs easier via the power of suggestion. Most of it was rubbish. But when the visions were imparted to respected figures in society, and heard by the right people, sometimes they actually worked.

Death always had a good laugh when they did.

Death was torn from his musings as the gaze of his empty sockets rested on his reaper, who had stopped spluttering long enough to inform him of this dilemma and was now bouncing on the balls of her feet and grinning up at him madly.

"So do I get a pay rise for this?"

A pay rise? _A pay rise_. She wasn't kidding either. Not if that stupid smirk was anything to go by.

" **NO. I MUST CONFER WITH LIFE."**

Then he paused before,

" **DO NOT REINCARNATE ANYTHING ELSE WITHOUT MY PERMISSION. I'LL BE BACK."**

This time Death didn't bother with a flashy exit. His mind was otherwise preoccupied. He needed to sort shit out. Whoever or whatever that black soul was, he didn't like it, and he needed to talk with Life to get the full picture.

The only silver lining was that it wasn't his people screwing up this time. Life couldn't blame the recent events on him.

He tapped his scythe twice on the forest floor and disappeared silently and without a trace.


	3. Chapter 2

The Adventures of Death

Inspired by Terry Pratchett's Discworld novel, _Mort_. Naruto (of course) belongs to Kishimoto.

Authors Note: Well I'm not really sure what to put here. This is my first attempt at writing creatively for fun, and its mostly for shits and giggles (I'm totally winging this Gintama style – I don't own that comedic gold either). I'm usually more of a maths person (which is reflected in the number I chose for the naruto-universe) so bear with my terrible grammar and whatnot.

Also if there's anything like terms or strange abbreviations that you don't understand let me know and I'll be happy to clarify, I think sometimes I forget how much slang I use until my international friends call me out on it. On that note I welcome constructive criticism, reviews and stuff, but I'm doing this on top of a ridiculously hardcore honours degree and part-time work so I can't make promises of commitment.

I am having fun writing this though, and I hope I can keep going :) It's fantastic procrastination material. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 2

Corentine was left standing in the middle of the clearing feeling slightly disappointed. She stared mournfully at the slightly singed patch of grass where her boss had been standing only moments before.

No pay-rise? She had totally saved Death a massive headache by sorting out all of that fate business. Yeah. He didn't even appreciate the trouble she had to go to, to specifically pick out those souls and make sure they ended up where they needed to be. It had been her day off too. She scowled.

Corentine had even made a deal with Joey, an old friend of hers at the prophetic division. It had taken an investment of her whole collection of limited edition _Tamashī kādo_ (*) and a box of _pocky_ (**) in a bet to get him to rig up the prophecy.

Corentine had only been the reaper in charge of this world for a couple hundred years now, making her the newbie on the job. Before becoming a reaper, she had been a white-collar worker typing numbers into a computer in a boxy office stall on the fifteenth floor. To this day she still wasn't really sure what the purpose of that job had been. She had been terrified that she was going to have to spend eternity surrounded by four off-white partition walls doing a seemingly meaningless job when one day, during her break, she decided that she had had enough. Instead of grabbing her usual two-minute noodles and sitting silently in the cramped break room, she had taken her destiny into her own hands.

It had taken several elevators, numerous misinterpreted directions from fellow co-workers and many wrong turns down twisting corridors of all descriptions, before she eventually arrived at a pair of towering timber doors with sleek black handles. Engraved in the wood were decorative swirls and little skulls.

For a moment she had hesitated. Her previous strength had cracked slightly and let a sliver of doubt run through her chest.

This was, after all, Death's abode.

Then she remembered what she would be returning to if her strength failed her now: an eternity in her awfully bland cubicle of boredom. Surely nothing was worse than that? So she held onto that fear in her chest, and used it to harness her adrenaline. The adrenaline she needed to push one of the wooden doors open, because really that door was ridiculously heavy. When she did, she had been faced with Death himself. His tall frame (because that's all he really was; skeletons were just frames to hang meat and organs from anyway) wore a tailored black suit, and was hunched over a large wooden desk covered in a disorderly pile of papers. It looked as if at one point there had been designated piles for specific subjects, but after hours of work it had slowly descended into a chaotic mess.

Death hadn't bothered looking up from whatever he was working on when she entered his office. Corentine had glanced at the papers but found that the writing was a strange mix of unfamiliar runes and squiggles that she assumed as some ancient language.

"U-um, excuse me?" She stuttered out, before cursing herself for sounding so unsure.

Silence reigned for seconds more, before,

" **WHAT IS IT NOW?"**

His voice seemed to echo inside her head. It was loud and commanding, but at the same time it didn't seem as if he had raised his voice. It was unsettling. It took Corentine a moment, then she realised why she was so disturbed. His voice, it was as if he had pushed the words into her mind, rather than physically hearing and interpreting the soundwaves entering her ear canals. Corentine had the impression that it wouldn't matter if you were standing right beside him, or a whole football field away, his voice would still be heard as if it was in her head.

So this was the terrifying god of death.

When she didn't answer immediately, his head (or … cranium, skull?) tilted up towards her. She expected to be able to see his empty sockets, but instead, it was like he had two black holes swirling against porcelain white bone. He had no irises, so it was impossible to tell where he was really looking, but she had the impression he was staring directly at her own soul. If his voice had unsettled her, his gaze was tenfold worse.

Somehow, from underneath the fear that had blanketed her, she managed to force out some words that weren't completely laced with stuttering,

"I want to be a reaper." Her voice came out as strong as any fourteen-year-old girl's voice could, and she took a moment to celebrate the small victory.

Death simply gazed at her for a moment, before making some sort of breathy sound with rumbling undertones that might have meant to be a sigh, before lowering his head to search for something on his desk. Just as he found what he was looking for, he called for someone.

" **BERYL."**

A moment later, a plump woman with immaculately pinned back greying hair pushed open one of the dark wooden doors, waddled over next to Corentine and adjusted her oversized cat eye glasses before responding,

"Yes, what can I do for you?" in a squeaky tone.

Death handed out the paperwork he had been holding and gestured to Corentine,

" **THIS ONE WANTS TO BE A REAPER. MAKE SURE ITS TRAINING IS SUFFICIENT."**

Corentine couldn't believe what was happening. She … she was getting promoted? All she did was ask. Was this all it took? Did anyone who waltzed into Death's office get a promotion if they just asked? There were so many flaws in that system she didn't know where to start.

"This is a terrible recruitment process." She blurted before she could activate her damn filter.

Oh no.

This was it.

This was the end for her. She final got what she wanted and she was going to lose it all because she couldn't keep herself from talking back to her boss. Her boss was Death, the guy/magical-being who controlled the souls of the afterlife, and who could damn her to an eternity of something a lot worse than a boring boxy office if he felt like it.

Death paused, before returning that soul-devouring scrutiny upon her.

Corentine held her breath.

" **YOU WILL BURN THOSE UNSIGHTLY THINGS ON YOUR FEET BEFORE YOU BEGIN."**

Wait, what? Corentine glanced down at her completely stylish classic converse shoes. How had he even seen those? With the angle that he had from his desk, her shoes shouldn't even be in his line of vision. But then, who was to say that the classic laws of physics, light refraction and such, actually applied to the master of death? Those sorts of rules didn't even apply in the real world sometimes when things started to get quantum, so maybe it wasn't too surprising? She figured it was a conundrum for another day.

"Uh … I guess I could temporarily remove them?" Corentine responded with slight bewilderment. She glanced at Beryl, who was sneering at her red shoes like they had personally insulted her first born and pissed in her morning coffee.

"… right. So when do I start?"

Turns out, the reaper for world #27182818285 was one of Death's best and had been threatening to retire if Death didn't reassign him. Apparently a feudal world dominated by shinobi was not an easy gig for a death reaper. So Death had eventually given in, reassigning the reaper and had been desperate for a replacement of any sort when she had approached him. They had both been desperate, and so he couldn't blame her for her first few mistakes.

Although, she admitted there were a few slip-ups in the first couple decades, it was nothing that she couldn't fix with a few slap jobs.

But back to the point. Corentine needed to make sure that she did this right. If she didn't want to end up back on level fifteen doing repulsive data-entry, she was going to have to make sure that those reincarnated souls did what she needed them to.

She was going to have to watch them closely. Turning on her heel she walked out of the clearing, her red converse leaving no footprints in the dirt behind her.

* _Tamashī kādo_ refers to soul cards. With an eternity to spare, most of Death's subordinates trade in soul cards, which contain profiles of prominent (celebrity-like) souls throughout all sorts of universes. Some are more popular than others, and, as mentioned, some are limited editions (this will be expanded on later).

** Pocky is a really yummy tasting Japanese biscuit/chocolate treat. Definitely a highly valuable ware to trade (10/10 would recommend).


	4. Chapter 3

Inspired by Terry Pratchett's Discworld novel, _Mort_. Naruto (of course) belongs to Kishimoto.

 **Author's Note:** So it's been a while! Life got in the way sorry. This chapter is perhaps a tiny bit darker at the end? If you have strong religious views about God-like figures I guess I should warn you that it's not my intention to offend anyone. Also I now have a rough idea of where I'm going with this, so while I can't promise immediate chapters (if anyone is even still reading lol) I'm definitely _**not**_ giving up on this. I've read a few self-inserts and I guess I wanted to try and come up with the answer to " _why is this happening to me?"_ so many of them seem to ask. Anyway I've waffled enough, I hope it's decent and please review! It means the world to me and probably lots of other authors out there :) Constructive criticism is more than welcome.

Chapter 3

The Village Hidden in the Leaves wasn't as hidden in leaves as its name suggested. Once, it might have been a little subtler, when the village was nothing more than a scattering of small homes and buildings shadowed by the tangle of forest and dwarfed by magnificent naturally formed cliffs to the west. However in the last hundred years, the village had exploded with development.

The main streets were littered with market stalls and overflowing with bustling people. On occasion, if you looked upwards, you'd see a blur of a shinobi racing across the rooftops.

Corentine waltzed through the town; her hands shoved in the pockets of her compulsory black death cloak, whistling a mash up of Jingle Bells and Queen's We Are The Champions.

As a reaper, Corentine had certain job perks. Death had many powers and abilities; most of which made no logical sense and transcended human conceptual capacity. Several of those abilities he passed on to his reapers to enable efficiency and efficacy in the reaping of souls. That included the ability to slip in between the states of matter and dark matter (a level of existence in between the realms of reality and the … well the flip side of the universe really). This basically meant that no ninja ability was going to be able to sense her presence when she didn't want them to, no matter how powerful or skilled the user was.

So it wasn't a big deal when she snagged an apple from a stall and began to munch contentedly; safe with the knowledge that no one would notice.

Death was busy trying to sort out the hows and whys of this reincarnation business, and so Corentine thought that she might as well keep an eye on the reincarnates themselves. It would be terribly awkward for her if they didn't fulfill the prophecy.

Now she just had to find them. Reapers didn't usually bother themselves with the daily business of the living. Most just focused on getting their jobs done. Corentine, however, was always fascinated with the living. They had short lives, but they were meaningful, and full of vibrancy that was severely lacking in the afterlife. Corentine supposed that she had been alive once, but she couldn't remember it. Not really.

It didn't take her long to pinpoint the first reincarnation.

Corentine could feel the presence of the soul clearly against the others. The surface of the soul radiated child-like joy and shiny newness, covering undertones of age-weary prowess. She followed the soul towards the outskirts of the village, where the streets were quieter and the buildings generally shabbier.

That was, until the high walls of a clan compound came into view.

The prestigious Uchiha compound seemed vastly out of place, surrounded by low-socioeconomic housing and businesses. It was such a horrific contrast, that it made Corentine wonder whether it was some sort of cruel joke; placing a founding clan's home in such a derelict part of the village. It was too far away from anything to be a convenient location. But that was no more than a passing thought in Corentine's mind; after all did it really matter?

Still whistling to herself, Corentine breezed through the compound entrance unnoticed and unperturbed. She wandered towards the glow of the reincarnated soul, passing small clustered homes and the trickle of Uchiha clansmen. Corentine stopped when her search brought her to the small stream that ran through the back of the compound.

Kneeled at the water's edge was a small boy, with raven unruly hair and a petulant scowl on his face. He seemed to be muttering something indecipherable under his breath and poking at the water with a stick.

Ah. He was sulking.

Corentine shifted uncomfortably.

This wasn't looking good for her. Her job security for the next millennia or so depended on these souls being able to fulfill the prophecy. While pouty little children were absolutely adorable, Corentine was a bit concerned about this kid's ability to defeat the evil being that had circumvented the notice of the Great Life herself.

Turning her attention back towards the boy she blanched. He had seemingly forgotten about his previous grievances and had taken interest in a particularly fat grub that had been wallowing about the bank of the small stream. He picked it up, turned around and ran straight back into the throng of the compound, calling for his mother. Corentine shivered and decided that this particular reincarnated soul would be fine without her intervention for a while. It had nothing to do with her dislike of slimy gross bugs. Nope. Not at all.

Just before Corentine was about to flee in order to return to her reaper duties, a smaller, but still noticeable soul pinged on her radar. Corentine halted for a moment and felt herself freeze in horror. That … that couldn't be, could it?

Meanwhile Death had materialized in a great hall. White marble fluted pillars lined the walls of the large room. If Death had been a fan of football, he would have guessed the room to be as large as a playing field. He wasn't though; and so it was just a really big hall. The same marble that made up the white glistening pillars also covered the floors and the walls. People, dressed head to toe in assortments of beige garments draped over them, gracefully meandered around. It was as if they were too lazy to actually put the clothes on and settled for layering the garments dramatically over themselves. At the far end of the hall a brilliant golden throne sat elevated on a platform. Death always thought it looked rather uncomfortable. He much preferred the comfort of his brown leather traditional executive chair. Sitting on the golden throne was a middle-aged woman. She was pale, and wore golden clothes much in the same style of her subjects. Her long white hair was almost silvery in the bright room and reached the floor whenever she stood.

Deaths dark appearance was a stark contrast to the blinding purity that practically oozed from the hall. Dark tendons of shadow swirled ominously around his feet as his irritation spiked.

He hated visiting Life.

As Death made his way towards the throne, the carefree atmosphere was dampened as people gasped and hurriedly scampered out of his path. By the time Death has arrived at the base of the platform on which Life was seated, a quiet hush had blanketed the once jovial hall.

Death paused, in which he was definitely not gathering courage, or subliminally searching for a last minute saving grace, before he spoke,

" **IT SEEMS THAT THERE IS AN ERROR WE MUST CORRECT."**

He wanted to say outright that it was really all her fault, but Death thought he would save that accusation until they were without an audience. Life heavily valued the respect and adoration in which her subjects held her. She would just get irritated if he pointed out her mistakes in front of them. He supposed that was why she felt the need for the ridiculous appearance of the hall.

It was all to reinforce the power gap.

Life looked as if she wanted him to disappear anyway.

"Very well then." Her calm voice broke the silence. As she stood all of her subjects bowed in unison towards her figure. In one graceful movement she stepped down from the platform and began to practically glide towards a small, previously unnoticeable door on the right side of the room.

Death followed dejectedly and mentally steeled himself for the conversation to come.

When Life had finished her explanation of her end of the dealings, Death was left feeling a curious mix of disbelief, confusion and cold fury.

Death looked upon Life, one of the only beings in the world that he couldn't conveniently make disappear, and wished with all his might that he could. He knew that Life was stupidly sentimental, and had the ability to tap into the emotions and _feelings_ of living creatures. He knew that this extreme level of empathy made her subjective to the wills and dreams of souls.

That didn't mean she had to go and disrupt the order of everything, just because she felt bad for some wayward soul that didn't get the most out of life.

Death could appreciate that some souls had rather short and disappointing lives, but that was sort of the point. The whole process was random and completely unfair but that was the point of it all.

The meaning of life was that there was no meaning of life.

To be honest Death had given up on the altruistic image of a god before he had even started this reaping business. It was too complicated; too messy. Sure, it was simple in theory. Just like physics has a tendency to be nice and neat in theory. And then you try applying it in real life and realize that there are a million external forces that you hadn't considered in your theoretical model. Too many additional considerations to realistically input and you realize that no model will ever be truly accurate. The judgement of souls was a similar situation.

Everything was subjective. Just because one person defined good and bad a certain way, didn't mean that the next person would see it the same way. There were no guidelines; no set of rules that outlined criteria for becoming a good person; nowhere to draw the line, and too difficult to regulate.

So Death had given in, and allowed randomness to thrive.

Life had completely undermined that mentality. The whole situation had become ridiculously overcomplicated. He stared at Life through is orbits and allowed one of his fouler aura's to seep through his bones. Death's phalanges gripped his scythe particularly tightly and he spoke,

" **YOUR SENTIMENTALITY HAS CAUSED GREAT UNBALANCE … UNBALANCE THAT I MAY NOT BE ABLE TO FIX."**

Life unfortunately seemed impervious to Deaths griping.

"I did it because you wouldn't have the power to fix it anyway." Her tone was frustrated and snippy, "You should trust that I know what I'm doing. I trust you can show yourself out."

With a huff, she spun around and stormed out of the small meeting room.

If Death had been capable, he would have narrowed his eyes in displeasure and curled his lip. What was life thinking? It was like she was trying to put out fire with more fire. Tense and with short patience, Death poured the energy into his scythe that would return him to his office.


End file.
